The committee meeting happened on Tuesday, and I walked in like I owned the place.
Not in the fake it until you make it way. Not with that desperate energy of someone trying too hard to prove they'd changed. Just walked in with my coffee and my clipboard and the quiet knowledge that I belonged here.
It was strange, that feeling. Like I'd been holding my breath for weeks and finally remembered how to exhale. The room didn't feel hostile anymore. Just neutral. A space I was allowed to occupy without apologizing for it.
Jasmine noticed immediately. "Look at you. Did you get a haircut or something?"
"Nope. Same hair."
"Then what is it?" She studied me like I was a science experiment. "You look different."
"Maybe you're just seeing me clearly for the first time."
It wasn't even a planned comeback. Just slid out naturally, and Jasmine laughed like I'd said something actually funny instead of accidentally profound.
The meeting started. Marcus droned on about polling numbers and voter turnout projections. I contributed ideas without overthinking every word. Made a joke about the terrible coffee that actually landed. Nobody looked at me like I was being weird or trying too hard.
I wasn't performing confidence anymore. Just inhabiting it.
It felt revolutionary. Like I'd spent my entire life translating myself into a language other people could understand, and suddenly I was just speaking my native tongue. No filter. No performance. Just me, unedited and unapologetic.
Chase sat across the table like always. Took notes on his laptop. Contributed when necessary. But he didn't look at me the way he used to. Didn't pretend I didn't exist.
He just maintained this careful distance that read less like indifference and more like self-preservation. Like he was protecting something fragile that might shatter if we acknowledged it in public.
I got it. We weren't ready to explain this to anyone. Hell, we couldn't even explain it to ourselves. What were we supposed to say? That we'd spent five years apart and three weeks destroying each other just to figure out we worked better messy than we ever did pretending to be put together?
After the meeting, I was gathering my stuff when Chase finally spoke. "Good ideas today."
"Thanks."
"The social media strategy especially. That'll reach younger voters."
Professional. Polite. Absolutely nothing like the way he whispered against my neck last night. Like his voice hadn't been rough with want. Like I hadn't memorized the exact sound he made when I—
"Glad you approve," I said, matching his tone.
Jasmine looked between us like she was trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. But she didn't ask. Just grabbed her bag and headed out with a casual "See you guys Thursday."
Smart woman. Some questions were better left unasked.
I was walking to my car when I realized I needed groceries. Because apparently even people having emotional breakthroughs still needed to eat. The store was one of those organic places that charged seven dollars for almond milk and acted like they were doing you a favor.
The fluorescent lights made everything look too bright. Too exposed. I grabbed a basket and headed for the pasta aisle because carbs were the only thing that made sense anymore.
I was comparing pasta sauce prices like it mattered when I heard his voice.
"Zoey."
I froze. Turned around slowly.
Daniel.
He looked exactly the same. Khakis. Button-down. That haircut that probably cost more than my car payment. Standing there with a basket full of pretentious cheese and craft beer like he was shopping for a lifestyle magazine photo shoot.
Of course he shopped here. Of course he was the type to buy fifteen-dollar artisanal gouda and act like it was an investment in his personal brand.
"Daniel. Hi."
"I've been thinking," he said, stepping closer.
My body tensed automatically. Fight or flight response kicking in even though we were in the produce section surrounded by overpriced kale. My brain catalogued exits. The main door. The back entrance near the loading dock. The emergency exit by the frozen foods that probably set off an alarm.
"About what?"
He touched my arm. Casual. Familiar. Like he still had permission.
I looked down at his hand on my arm. Didn't move it. Just let it sit there like evidence I might need later. My skin crawled under his palm. How had I let him touch me for two years? How had I convinced myself this was affection instead of ownership?
"About us. About what happened."
There was no us anymore. We'd established that. I'd ended it. He'd accepted it. We were done. So why was he standing here in the organic grocery store looking at me like I was a problem he'd finally figured out how to solve?
"There's no us anymore. We established that."
"I know. But I've been watching you." His smile was supposed to be charming. It wasn't. "You seem different. More... awake, I guess. It's attractive."
His words made my skin crawl. Like I was some product that finally got the right packaging and now he was interested in buying. Like my growth was something he could consume. Like I'd finally become the version of myself he'd been trying to engineer all along.
The audacity. The absolute fucking audacity of standing here and telling me that the version of myself I'd clawed my way into—the one that existed despite him, not because of him—was suddenly worth his attention.
"That's great, Daniel. Really happy my personal growth is attractive to you."
He didn't catch the sarcasm. Of course he didn't. Sarcasm required emotional intelligence he'd never possessed.
"I'm serious. I think I misjudged what we had." He leaned in slightly. Dropped his voice like we were sharing something intimate. "This version of you? I could work with this."
The words landed like a slap.
Not because they hurt. Because they were so fundamentally wrong that I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But mostly I just felt tired. Exhausted by the reality that he'd spent two years with me and still thought people were customizable. That if you just found the right settings, you could make them into whatever you needed.
"I'm not a version, Daniel. I'm just done dimming myself for people who can't handle the light."